City of lights hewn before my ears

Conductor Gianandrea Noseda introduced the Respighi "La Boutique Fantasque" this evening with his usual flair. Some conductors don't take the opportunity to talk to the audience, yet it's often a very entertaining way to connect the music with the audience. His assertion was that perhaps this piece was 50% by Respighi and 50% by Rossini, who came to Paris at the 'ripe old age of 37', and for a while didn't write a note. Eventually, according to Noseda, he did write some piano pieces, which were eventually orchestrated by Respighi for the 8 movements fantastically presented this evening by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra.

This composition, which I'm hearing for the first time tonight, except for a few melodies which I do recognize, seems amazing to me. Each piece, each section, and as a whole, this music is much to amazing to be so obscure. The overture begins with a great melody, playful and enticing, and when it's done, I wish to hear more. Yet no fear, each and every movement to follow has the same quality, enduring and melodic. With this music as a backdrop, I begin to write the following, even turning into poetry...

In the beginning there were sounds. Sounds, branching into myriad amalgamations of sonorous tendrils bundled algorithmically into packets of temporal relations, juxtaposed behind alternating selections thematically grouped in musical forms intended to smack the listener with the greatest melodic impact.

Then there were words, but just what words can accurately, concisely and vigorously capture the fullest splendor of the music?

Words can be beautiful. Words can be bright.
Say the thing you mean, but do words have the right?
Can they usurp the reality of the tender music,
That we would hear throughout the night.

A vain attempt these words do make
to model reality and meaning take;
losing in the transcription the larger part
between harmonious reality and what's in my heart.

My noble attempt to say the words, now past
has led me here to the threshold, magic at last.

The city of lights this night is hewn before my ears,
release the hidden subtlety as comprehension nears;
the music, as with the light, unleashed to shed our fears.

Meandering Contemplative Juxtapositions

A misunderstanding or perhaps simply my misplaced accounting of the movements that comprise Berlioz' Romeo and Juliet led my confused mind wandering down several wrong-way paths of meandering contemplative juxtapositions whereby I was questioning the composer's dubious choice of musical content meant to picturesquely represent the various scenes from Shakespeare's play.
My eventual state of bewildered confusion was only temporary; somehow I was off by two movements. The programmatic music had the titles of the movements listed in the program, and since I've never heard Berlioz' suite before (Suite from Roméo et Juliette, Dramatic Symphony, Opus 17, 1839), and because these are only excerpts (we don't get to hear the choral finale), I miscalculated where I was along the way.

'Love Scene', I confused for part of 'Romeo Alone'.  'Queen Mab Scherzo' I substituted for 'Festival at the Capulets' followed by erroneously thinking the true 'Love Scene' was 'Romeo at the Tomb of the Capulets' -- a mistake which had me all mixed up, wondering: what was Berlioz thinking? As the music sequenced further beyond what was published, I realized my mistake, feeling somewhat embarrassed and realizing that instead of misguided, Berlioz was a genius composing such luscious, broad, delicate and sweeping sounds gloriously representing the love of Romeo and Juliet. The real scherzo (not the one I imagined from before) is creative and vibrant and with beating drums and dramatic tempos first fast then slow then fast again.

I really did enjoy this version by Berlioz, yet it's difficult not to compare the version by Tchaikovsky which is really spectacular, so it's not fair to pit the two against each other in a hypothetical match-up. Certainly I want to hear the Berlioz version again, I find that listening to selections repeatedly reenforces my like for the music.

After intermission we were treated to Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2, music with which I am very familiar. Nicholas Angelich took complete control with his mastery of the piano. His technique wasn't subtle, his tumultuous approach at the beginning was enough to wake the sleepiest of patrons, simultaneously usurping the role of the orchestra, at least for movements 1 and 2. I really do like the music, but for some reason the first two movements seemed too loud for my liking, somehow saturating my senses, like clipping for speakers (when the peaks and troughs of a sinusoidal waveform hit the maximum permissible value, it indicates a signal has been 'clipped.'). However, the 3rd and 4th movements were just right, the perfect volume, and very well played by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Note to self: get seats further back next time.

I always enjoy seeing guest conductor Gianandrea Noseda with the PSO, he did a great job as always, very animated with adroit clarity - I hope he returns often.

Like an Egyptian

First up; Steven Stucky: Son et Lumière; a glistening journey in one movement with rapid change-ups and lots of percussion -- something I always enjoy. Mr Stucky gave a very nice introduction: "entertaining, super entertaining, does handstands, constantly in motion..." Did I mention that he said it would be entertaining? Indeed it was.

Next up; Stephen Hough performing the solo on Camille Saint-Saëns: Piano Concerto No. 5, 'Egyptian'. Not sure why it is called Egyptian, it doesn't really sound Egyptian, but perhaps that was what was intended. However it did sound simply fabulous - and since this is the first time I've ever listened to this concerto, I was completely mesmerized by the creative ideas, as if the composer's attempts to journey to the 'East' gave him an outlet for fascinating new aspects of music which stretched the limits. Mr Hough plays a beautiful encore after much applause.

Finally, the glowing Cinderella Suite by Sergei Prokofiev. This one you must experience in person, preferably with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Leonard Slatkin conducted a wonderful performance this evening, one I'll never forget.

Stephen Hough stands to sign autographs at Heinz Hall following his performance with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, Camille Saint-Saëns: Piano Concerto No. 5, 'Egyptian'

Rekindled Phase with the Universe

When this day began, no notes plunged tentacles deep within my heart, no songs ran feathers up and down my goose-bumped skin, eliciting magical feelings. No music heretofore evoked rapt emotional sentiment, no sounds crept upon abstracted mind, preoccupied with superficial daily diversion. Yet the symphony concert was about to begin, and I had not yet made myself ready to absorb the abstracted musical foray into glistening heights I usually achieve quite easily with only one felled note.

I listened eagerly, my furrowed eyebrows throwing daggers at my gloomy outlook, attempting to disrupt my present departure from optimism. Somehow I felt out of phase with the universe -- surely a world without the beauty of classical music could not bound my horizon for long -- certainly the orchestral sounds would unravel the chord that tied my mind.

All around my seat other patrons sat on the edges of their red velvet chairs, engrossed in the brewing cauldron of ephemeral sounds, waiting with collective bated breaths for greater astonishments with each successive cadence. For some, expectations were crystallized in wide eyes and gentle smiles. I sat with rapt attention, still out of phase, and I envied them.

Seeing their apt linkage with the dynamic intonations stirred within me a growing contagion of congenial spirit, and increased excitement in my own appreciation of the piece. Shifting colors slowly filled my soul, now searching for melodic phrases to latch upon, familiarize myself with, and to absorb the form and counterpart fitting the rhythm to my out of synch mind and finally finding a rekindled phase with the universe.

Conductor Yan Pascal Tortelier and soloist Sarah Chang were no less responsible for coalescing the former dichotomy between my formerly handcuffed state of mind and my desire to thoroughly enjoy the resonant sounds. Tortelier introduced the concert with his unique style of merry musings on the advent of the inclusion of Morton Gould's "Spirituals" with Bernstein's "West Side Story Suite" arranged by Newman, and Jean Sibelius' Symphony No. 1. It turns out it was simply luck that he played a CD that had sat on his shelf, and upon listening to the 'Spirituals' decided this would be the perfect piece to go with the other two. His choice was a good one in my opinion, I thoroughly enjoyed Gould's composition, played well by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and wonder why I've never heard it before.

Sarah Chang's range of performance salvaged what I felt was a rapid meandering frolic on the West Side Story Sweet by Bernstein. If it had progressed somewhat slower, like the original, I might have enjoyed it more. Nevertheless Chang's rendition of the melodies, especially in the second half of the piece, delivered a magnetic exhibition.

Sibelius' Symphony No. 1 began. With the slow raising of his hand Tortelier commenced a flute and soft drum roll, then stood perfectly still, waiting for this atypical opening to progress on its own. He points to the violins and they rapidly saw their transitioning portion to the rest of the strings which build a fullness that lends its way to the horns, then to the woodwinds as they sidle up to the whole orchestra, rapidly ascending as if to the very top of a mountain peak, which is followed by a sweet interlude, accelerating to greater rhythms and journeys throughout. Absorbed in the composition, I finally realize I have not changed at all, the universe has realigned itself to me.

Previn and the Pittsburgh, Recapitulated

I've always wanted to attend a concert with André Previn conducting the PSO, and this past weekend was my perfect opportunity. Mr Previn walks on stage assisted by a staff member, he turns, smiles and bows graciously before the audience, then is seated on a chair on the conductor's podium. He starts the music instantly, not hesitating for the applause to subside, as the marvelous symphony number 102 of Franz Joseph Haydn begins. His arms are long and reaching, and his hands expressive as he conducts with flair.

Next comes a world premier of Previn's own composition, his own Triple Concerto for Trumpet, Horn and Tuba featuring George Vosburgh, trumpet, William Caballero, horn and Craig Knox, tuba. It begins with a jaunt, or journey, as if music from an action movie score. The second movement begins with deep tones, soft and slow, then builds. At times I hear what I perceive as a bit of dissonance almost verging on vertigo. The third movement starts with descending notes of the strings, then the brass takes the notes back down the scale. All throughout the trumpet, horn and tuba are well balanced with the orchestra, but I am most partial to the tuba, something not often heard in a role of soloist. Again I detect dissonance, but then beautiful rich sounds of the strings take over again.

Finally the Mendelssohn Symphony No. 4, "Italian". I'm almost at a loss for words, the beauty of this performance is simply too difficult to describe. I want to hear it again. André Previn bows to the audience to lots of applause, and he even applauds the PSO for their performance, as seen in the photo.

PSO's Enigmatic Passion frame Ax's lively performance

As the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, led by conductor Nikolaj Znaider, begin Richard Wagner's Prelude and Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde, I see Cellos, Flutes, Piccolo, Violins then Horns as the Prelude portion builds. Then I realize that Mr Znaider has no score, and I'm amazed at his ability to remember all the parts and transitions for the entire orchestra. Also consider all the knowledge he has as a soloist on the violin, and add to that the symphonic repertoire of his conducting -- that's quite a feat of memory.

Wagner must be very difficult to remember. I've listened to "Tristan und Istolde" perhaps dozens of times, and I would be quite challenged to remember which parts of the orchestra must play at what times, the sequence of events, yet Znaider has it perfect and without a score. He points to the violins, and they play, he gestures to the horns, and they play, time after time he knows exactly where to go next. Sweeping back and forth, also succinct with his waving baton, he brings each musician, each section to the proper place at just the right time. The second part, the 'Liebestod' has always given me goosebumps, every single time I hear it. Tonight it's even better, with the beautiful live sounds coming directly from the PSO at Heinz Hall - here it produces a deeper warm glow, built upon the tender passion that comes directly from the music.

Four opening notes begin Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 22 with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, but piano soloist Emanuel Ax doesn't commence for several more bars. Later, the same 4 opening notes are again repeated by the orchestra -- this time I see conductor Znaider mouth those notes in a natural pantomime "Buh Buh Bum Buh." I feel the urge to hum along myself, but I keep my notes to myself, until sometime after the concert.

As violin soloist a few weeks ago, Znaider was sublime; tonight as maestro and conductor, he is supreme; his long reach extends almost into each of the sections of musicians urging the music to come forth irresistibly. Between passages the orchestra grows still as Mr Ax rips through another beautiful sequence of seemingly never-ending rapid notes meandering up and down the length of the keyboard, and conductor Znaider turns toward the pianist and smiles approvingly, as the music continues.

The second moment enlightens my mind with metaphoric images of an artists pallet, arrayed with colors; ready for the musicians to spread abstract amalgamations of melody woven with the hues of harmony into a masterpiece of adroit development. At one point the piccolo and bassoon are performing a two part rhythm which then melds into a tender dance like the sounds of a gentle brook, culminating with the final falling of a leaf gently to a forest floor.

With the third and final movement, the artistic pallet of the last movement is completely changed back to the typical spark of recognizable Mozart counterpoint I am used to. The acumen of the flourishes burst forth, then flirt as if hiding behind various sections of the orchestra. I wonder if some of the piano sections could sound the same if played backwards or forwards, the hands literally go up and down the scale. The killer melody of the piano is surrounded by the harmony of the orchestra, surrounding each other and eventually giving way to a short intermezzo, slowing the tempo, before returning to the original fast paced theme. The sheer volume of notes are distinctly heard, yet build the sound into a full bodied exuberance. The Piccolo and Bassoon interplay near the end, bringing a smile to my face.

Mr Ax, after a standing ovation, beautifully plays Debussy's "Pagodas" as his encore, striking almost every black key on the keyboard.

Until this evening, I've never heard the complete set of Edward Elgar's Enigma Variations. The finale is recognizable. While each variation has it's own glorious sound, together they don't necessarily seem like unified elements sequentially placed in a principal theme, but perhaps enigmatic parts in a hybrid wheel. Taken together the sections combine into one beautiful whole, but I can't help but wonder if the sections could be played in different orders, and still produce the same interesting result - the "Enigma Variations." The only exception would be the finale, which seems perfectly suited as only applicable as the ending part in this turning wheel, and the part which is most memorable.

Florid Resonant Surrender

The concert begins as composer Steven Stucky enters the stage and introduces his world premiere of "Silent Spring," a work commissioned by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. According to Mr. Stucky, "Silent Spring" is a dark, dramatic and exiting piece. In order to compose the music, he used poetic imagery suggested by the titles written by Rachel Carson in her books. Deep, gripping and urgent emotions are what he intends for his tone poem, and "if all goes well, we will experience these emotions together."

I was impressed. The music instantly drew me into it's sphere of influence, and I was hooked for the entire duration of this seminal event. Low tones cascading upwards, transitioning abruptly, led to fluttering strings, ominously placed as if birds in migration. Sounds quite congruous, yet evoking dread, were crying out to be heard. Subdued quiet ensued and a bell tolls. An oboe laments and somber sounds from deep bass resound in peaceful yet asymmetrical furrows below the din. Again a bell tolls. Still silent, and subtle, intonation begets a rising lumbering echo permeating perhaps a forest floor. Towering monoliths, slowly moving, look below the heights. Strings build upward toward a plateau, beyond which are ocean's waves, splashing, breaking, accelerating; tides rip through currents, racing ever on to an eventual climax of capitulation. Dissonance appears, bells chime and sounds subside into a florid resonant surrender. Drums beat in humble silence, and at the end only the baton is moving, one final stroke and submission is complete: silence.

The audience around me also appreciate this wonderful tone poem by Mr. Stucky, as evidenced by the resounding applause, smiles and wonder.

Sibelius' Violin Concerto is one of my favorites. Like many of the best concertos, it has the form and flair that make it compelling. This concerto, however begins in a rather unconventional manner, as if a lone individual, in a vast forest, begins a beckoning call, asking the forest creatures to begin their morning murmurs. Nikolaj Znaider is this individual, and his violin warbles reverberating tones in combinations seemingly unattainable, yet deeply haunting and rich in timber. The final movement, with it's catchy beat, is the perfect finale for the showmanship of Mr Znaider, with a violin that seems too small for his stature. After the standing ovation, Mr Znaider plays a beautiful and simple encore.

As Manfred Honeck begins to conduct Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6, "Pathétique," I realize he has no score before him, only a baton -- it's obvious this symphony is in his memory and part of his repertoire, and the evident flourish displayed as he sweeps the orchestra into the spirited development betrays his union with the music. As I think of Tchaikovsky and the circumstances at the end of his life (Tchaikovsky conducted his B minor Symphony for the first time only a week before his death), I can't help but think of an enormous contradiction -- to me, this symphony is full of optimism, passion and furious jaunts marching with alacrity toward the wish to be alive, in love and full of joy. Yet the final movement jumps over that metaphor into a lament and ends, as does the first piece we heard this evening, by decelerating into an eventual state of silence, not at all the typical ending for Tchaikovsky or any composer. Yet it's beautiful.

The evening is a delight, as always. Indeed I learn to surrender to the florid resonant sounds of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. If I were afflicted with a passion of music and sound (and I am), and the talent to put those notes together into glorious harmony, forever recorded, then I would be even more in love with life and everything in it; certainly the very thought of being in love is reason enough to be optimistic; never yearn to posses the object of that love, but forever love from afar the beauty and the music.

Caught Temporal Embrace

A caught temporal embrace never lasts beyond the fleeting flicker of the moment it was intended, never grants the bearer a feeling beyond a mere moment's euphoria and eventually fades, like the best of dreams, into the mundane aspects of conscience reality. Yet we hungrily cling to that memory, that moment of passion hoping to preserve and inflate the lingering abstract qualities of the encounter into an everlasting painting hung upon the wall, always there to see. Well beyond the seat where I sit is a stage, arrayed with chairs, filled with talented musicians, led by a brilliant maestro; and they are there today to play for me the very best of classical music, composed throughout the ages. My temporal embrace begins with the entrance of conductor Manfred Honeck with a decisive grin and they begin.

Beethoven was younger than Mozart, yet somehow I think of Mozart as being always young. Mozart's untimely death at the age of 35 somehow reverses their ages in my mind. We remember Beethoven as older based on all the portraits we see. Tonight the ordering is also switched. First up is Beethoven's Symphony No. 1 from the year 1800, one of my favorites -- the scherzo is filled with wit and humor, and the finale gets me going with its toe tapping alacrity. Honeck conducts with a variety of gestures of his baton and hand including leveling, waving, extending, snapping, flowing and his signature thumb and index finger O. When he stands straight you know everything is going just right, and it was - a marvelous performance.

Mozart wrote Piano Concerto No. 16 in 1784 when he was about 28 years old. Lars Vogt did this composition much justice, it's not often played, and deserves just this kind of performance. The piano parts were witty and filled with a kind of rhythm not really heard in other Mozart piano concertos in my opinion. It was a kind of jazz like rhythm, yet the underlying joyful pomp ever present in any Mozart composition was ever present as well.

It's always a chore to keep in mind the temporal aspects of history. In my embrace of the classical compositions presented tonight, I reflect on the time-line, and wonder what Mozart would have thought of Beethoven's works, if he had lived longer and was able to hear the compositions of his younger contemporary. Or what would Beethoven have thought of the works of Respighi? And I've wondered what it would be like if I could climb into a time machine, go back and experience the classics as they were first presented.

Respighi's The Fountains of Rome and The Pines of Rome are programmatic in nature, yet stand as wonderful works of pure music in their own right. The Pines of Rome will forever be engrained in my mind as the music for the whales in Disney's Fantasia 2000, which I used to watch again and again with my daughter when she was young, yet today, listening as I did, I can perceive both the context Respighi intended, and musically without any program at all.

At the close of my temporal embrace I was no longer caught. The applause for Manfred Honeck the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra waded on, and I realized at that moment that I was suddenly released from my embrace, as if waking from a dream, with the closing chords of Respighi's Pines of Rome trumpeting marvelously in my memory and on my consciousness, and as I grasped to hold that lingering moment, I relished what I had, and I knew that I would experience it again, the next time I visit Heinz Hall to see and hear the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra.

The Utmost Embodiment and Rhythm of Nature

My trips to Heinz Hall to see and hear the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra are mostly driven by the joy of music. Yet there's often much more offered than just the music. Tonight I was treated to a very entertaining introduction to the Steven Stucky's Spirit Voices, Concerto for Percussion and Orchestra. In the lobby members of the Duquesne University School of Music were on hand to generously demonstrate percussion instruments with exhibitions and explanations of the instruments and their sounds; and they even gave us the opportunity to try out the instruments ourselves. I tried the Vibraphone, and my friend Miki tried the gong.




All three selections this evening share a similar character - the utmost embodiment and rhythm of nature. Ravel's Mother Goose was the first of these programmatic pieces with recognizable melodies wrapped around themes such as Sleeping Beauty, Tom Thumb, Beauty and the Beast, and finally the Enchanted Garden. Conductor Juraj Valcuha lead the Pittsburgh Symphony on a beautiful journey through the suite with dulcet rhythms, lush strings and a singularly optimistic sound.

According to the composer Steven Stucky, "Spirit Voices takes its inspiration from the diversity of spirits and other supernatural forces from cultures around the world who manifest their presence through sound. The music itself does not borrow from these original cultures but instead comes purely from my own imagination."

Stucky's inspiration combined with his own imagination have created a fascinating kind of new classical music for the audience. I myself found that half the enjoyment of the piece came from the sounds, yet the other half was from the interest I derived in watching the soloist, Dame Evelyn Glennie perform with the percussion. It was as if she was not merely playing the instruments, but was enmeshed in a form of dance amongst a collection of xylophones, glockenspiels, gongs, tom-toms, wood blocks, cowbells, beaters and sticks.

In his introduction, Steven Stucky indicated that the piece was full of colors and character with sudden contrasts, and that we might all want to be ready for surprises. He indicated that the PSO were full partners with the percussion, and that he hoped we would all be fascinated, surprised and excited.



After intermission came for me the real treat, Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances. On wikipedia I read that the original name was "Fantastic Dances," with movement titles of "Noon," "Twilight" and "Midnight." The symphony was wide ranging, with lush melodies, and sweeping romanticism, and full bodied orchestration. From the PSO I enjoyed the vivid sound and vibrant texture, and conductor Valcuha seemed to energize the orchestra further with his energetic phrasing. At times the sound was soft and clear, others, intense and breathtaking - all in all this is a composition that must be experienced live at the concert hall - listening at home (which I did a few days prior to the concert just to whet my appetite) just doesn't cut it.

The Merry Lives of Yinzer

Yinzer - that's me, even though I don't often use that expression, yet my life was merry indeed at such a wonderful concert -- one with many references to Pittsburgh. I was able to make it to Heinz Hall an hour early to hear most of the concert prelude with Resident Conductor Lawrence Loh and PSO Concertmaster Noah Bendix-Balgley. This was a nice introduction to Mr. Bendix-Belgley and the interview process he had to endure to become PSO concertmaster, and Mr. Loh did an excellent job of introducing the music.


More merry was I to listen to an excellent rendition of Beethoven's Piano Concerto number 1, elegantly played by Leif Ove Andsnes, piano.


All of Beethoven's piano concertos are a joy. In the notes I see that "Both scores (1 & 2) appeared in 1801, the delay apparently caused by Beethoven’s desire to keep them from his rivals and reserve them for his personal use." I wonder, if Beethoven were to write music today, with places like youtube out there on the internet, if he would reserve his music for his personal use, or publish it online. If online, I expect he would have better luck than I, having published a nature video myself called 'American toad singing Western Pennsylvania' in the spring of 2008, only to have a so-called disputed copyright claim on my toad video by another company about a month ago. I disputed that claim, but youtube won't do anything about it. I recorded the video myself in a pool full of toads some years ago. How in the world can a big music company make a claim on it I have no idea, there is no music, just a toad singing. But this happens a lot where companies lay claim to content that does not belong to them. Beethoven would perhaps roll over in his grave if he saw the state of the music industry today. Note: I would like to also state that the pictures I post here are mine, made by me, as are the words :)

One of my favorite pieces was played this past weekend: Overture to The Merry Wives of Windsor (1846-1849) by Otto Nicolai -- I've quoted the line below from the PSO notes on their web page, I liked the reference, and must listen to Die Meistersinger again to hear the melody:

"The complementary melody is not heard again in the opera, though Richard Wagner so admired it that he borrowed it for an episode in Act III of Die Meistersinger. "

Another beautiful piece - Zigeunerweisen, by Pablo De Sarasate, was surprising in the ability of soloist Noah Bendix-Balgley to control the depth and breadth of the solo part. Manfred Honeck joked before the piece that they picked something not too hard, with not too many notes. His sarcasm was amusing, because this piece was extremely difficult with lots of notes.

At the end came a few Strauss selections with lots of fun - first Manfred Honeck indicates that there is an expression (paraphrasing) "in Germany it is said they work 350 days and are on holiday 15, but in Austria they work 15 days and are on holiday 350." This was the introduction to 'Auf Ferienreisen' (Holiday Trips) by Josef Strauss, where Mr. Bendix-Balgley strolls out in vacation garb, situates a beach chair, opens a few beers, gives a few to the orchestra including the Maestro, and generally garners many laughs. Josef Strauss' 'Feuerfest Polka' comes next, with a real anvil, and the percussionist (help me with his name, he was great!) places a terrible towel on the beach chair, dons a pair of sunglasses, and does his percussion on the anvil while drinking beer. What a great time!

Unflinching precision and beauty

Unflinching precision and beauty - the evening last night was replete with precise notes, falling one after another without interruption, yet arrayed with timbre, expressiveness and energy. Gabriela Montero was at her best with the Prokofiev Concerto Number 3, and she performed two wonderful improvisations, one on 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', the other based on the 'Here We Go Steelers' tune. She asked the audience for someone to sing a song. One lady sang Twinkle Twinkle melody -- it turns out I know her personally, and talked to her at intermission, so that rules out any possibility of a 'plant' in the audience ;)

Ms. Montero begins with the simple melody for 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', then changes the key and introduces other forms of development. Next chords and other threads begin to appear -- counterpoint breezes through adroitly with cascading lines, and Presto: it now sounds like a full flung Bach composition, yet the Twinkle Twinkle continues to materialize. The spontaneous nature of her improvisation is impressive to say the least, and goes to show her amazing talent - not only as a performer but as a composer of classical music. The second improv was more in the style of Liszt, with a fluid meandering of fingers intertwined with a teaming cadence quite lively and exuberant.



The Prokofiev concerto was new to me. It began with a very fast tempo - which to me was almost feverish, and very enjoyable. After the first movement I heard someone say - amazing! The second movement was filled with lush strokes and the final movement exhibited grand gestures from both the piano and the orchestra.

Earlier in the day I listened to a podcast interview hosted by Jim Cunningham of WQED where she talks about her new composition, a piano concerto which makes a personal political statement about Venezuela. On facebook she indicates that she is working on a recording of the composition which she premiered recently in Germany called 'ExPatria'. This is an excerpt from her facebook page:

"ExPatria"

As an expatriate Venezuelan, it may be of little surprise that I should wish to express, in music, a longing for the beautiful country of my birth.

However, my debut as a composer reaches beyond private nostalgia to a very public cry. ExPatria is a portrayal of a country barely recognizable from that of my youth. It is my emotional response to the loss of Venezuela herself to lawlessness, corruption, chaos and rates of murder among the highest in the world.

After intermission I was awestruck by the beauty of the Brahms Symphony number 2 expertly played by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Guest conductor Christoph König majestically conducted the orchestra with an express set of gestures succinct in their effect with the players, and entertaining for the audience as well.

Gabriela Montero in Pittsburgh

Gabriela Montero in Pittsburgh signing autographs - after Sergei Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 3 she performed two wonderful improvisations, one on 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', and the other based on the 'Here We Go Steelers' tune.

A Guide to the Orchestra - with a pop quiz

According to guest conductor Leonard Slatkin, "Tonight is Show Off Night." He was referring to showcasing the talent of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and two of their players as soloists. Randolph Kelly began with the Concerto for Viola and Orchestra by Walter Piston. This was not one of my favorites compositions perhaps because it's very brooding, yet it provided a great showcase for the solo viola. Kelly's style was direct and straight forward, the volume worked well against the orchestra. I liked the second movement, yet at times it seemed like two unrelated compositions were attempting to weave their way amongst themselves. The third movement I liked best, more a classical style with pizzicato on the orchestra strings, bold brass, drums, woodwinds, the while orchestra as backdrop to the whirling viola. Kelly's best was during the small solo part in the midst of this movement - his command of the viola accented the performance.

After intermission Cynthia Koledo DeAlmeida was the soloist with the PSO in the L'Horloge de flore [The Flower Clock], a beautiful amalgamation of 7 movements representing a different flower at various times of the day - a marvelous way to programatically represent music. DeAlmeida's oboe sounded enticing with an abundance of pure tones and perfect transitions between notes. The composition was simple yet elegant, each hour and flower providing a different melody and mood. Here are a few thoughts I had for each:

• slowly, blooming, pizzicato, tempo
• scherzo, sprightly, spread forth, bickering, beautiful
• awake, swaying softly, subtle, breezy, silhouette, shine
• jumble, tapping, spinning, dance, skipping
• warmth, floating, reaching, endeavor, asking
• prancing, curiosity, sneaking, ruffle
• racing, pause, derive, hurry, jovial

At the conclusion, DeAlmeida bowed to much applause - then she indicated to her fellow woodwind players to stand, but they would not, deferring all the applause to her alone. When Slatkin came back out he asked them to rise, and this time they did. I heard one person exclaim: "It takes a conductor to get the orchestra to stand up - now we know why they make the big bucks "

The final showcase was the use of young speakers, between the ages of 10 and 12 to introduce each of the sections and instruments during the performance of Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra (Variations and Fugue on a theme of Purcell). This was the highlight of the evening, and was a lot of fun too with the use of the young people seated amongst the orchestra players. A few of their introductions include:

• Sabine - Woodwinds
• Anna - Brass
• Abby - Strings
• Elana - Percussion
• Harry - instrument variation
• Giovanna - Oboes
• Weston - Clarinets, Bassoon, Violins
• Lance - Violas, Cellos
• Cassandra - Bass, Harp
• Adam - French Horns
• Alex - Trumpets, Trombone, Tubas
• Sophia - Percussion, Timpani
• Kendall - Bass Drum, Tamborine, Triangle
• Riley - Xylaphone, Castinets, Gong, Whip

Then they all play together in a final Fugue where each instrument enters one at a time.

Slatkin joked: "As you leave there will be pieces of paper for the pop quiz"

Echos of plenitude

Poems to fit the evening of classical music with Leonard Slatkin and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, written while listening.

Double Play (2010) by Cindy McTee

Disruptions peak curiosity
cognizant of theme
somnolent seniority
seem
flourishing minuscule
temperamental
building volume & orchestration
stereophonic fidelity
strings bring back to
contemplating stardust
sprinkled over temporal plane
planetary exuberance
thrust upon a solitary grain
somber horizon wrestling to be undone
drops of rainwater ebullient won
syncopated rhythm increases tempo
jazzy sawdust timber driving
leaping unbridled embellishment
duck before sudden impact sinews
weaving agile tributary ambling
drama heights dimensions
down through clouds of speculation
misty particles drop dissolve
savage soul unleashed wild impetuous
untamed dissonance striving ever forward
manifest particles curling off elliptically
free!

Ralph Vaughan Williams - Five Variants of "Dives and Lazarus" (1939)

gentle fields thy wait awake
and though thou do not share mutual outlook
I observe thy beauty in a vacuum
not affecting nor disturbing gentle radiance
relay and imbue said pastoral scene
it belongs to all of us who observe
significance, it is not necessary
sweeping gusts of vibrant strings
spew forth multiple threads of intertwining vines
solo violin echos on reflections below
passing streams of conscientiousness
building joining connected thoughts
back and forth hymnal harmony hyperbolic henceforth
rejuvenating souls no longer lost
linger three lines in trio reverberating theme
echos of plenitude
joining breeze to slice journey's end.

Echos of plenitude

poems to fit the evening of classical music with Leonard Slatkin and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, written while listening.

Double Play (2010) by Cindy McTee

Disruptions Peak Curiosity
cognizant of theme
somnolent seniority
seem
flourishing minuscule
temperamental
building volume & orchestration
stereophonic fidelity
strings bring back to
contemplating stardust
sprinkled over temporal plane
planetary exuberance
thrust upon a solitary grain
somber horizon wrestling to be undone
drops of rainwater ebullient won
syncopated rhythm increases tempo
jazzy sawdust timber driving
leaping unbridled embellishment
duck before sudden impact sinews
weaving agile tributary ambling
drama heights dimensions
down through clouds of speculation
misty particles drop dissolve
savage soul unleashed wild impetuous
untamed dissonance striving ever forward
manifest particles curling off elliptically
free!

Ralph Vaughan Williams - Five Variants of "Dives and Lazarus" (1939)

gentle fields thy wait awake
and though thou do not share mutual outlook
I observe thy beauty in a vacuum
not affecting nor disturbing gentle radiance
relay and imbue said pastoral scene
it belongs to all of us who observe
significance, it is not necessary
sweeping gusts of vibrant strings
spew forth multiple threads of intertwining vines
solo violin echos on reflections below
passing streams of conscientiousness
building joining connected thoughts
back and forth hymnal harmony hyperbolic henceforth
rejuvenating souls no longer lost
linger three lines in trio reverberating theme
echos of plenitude
joining breeze to slice journey's end.

Leapfrogging Genius

A few weeks ago I blogged that Beethoven represented a singularity in as much as the composers before and since were merely prelude and postscript. Yet I'm doing a huge injustice to many other great composers. By leapfrogging Haydn and Mozart, both with a wealth of not just pleasant, but uniquely genius compositions in their own right, I've forgotten two of the best in the classical form. Tonight I was able to hear them both.

Before the concert in the lobby I recognized a musician that I thought I saw playing the violin several weeks before. I introduced myself, and found out that I was wasn't imagining, she was a 'sub' and had played during the Gala. How is it that we as humans can often recognize faces, or to transcribe the metaphor, music? Remembering the name is not quite as easy as remembering the selection I'm listening to, or to the face of a person I know I've seen before - she said her name is Rachel if I remember correctly - I hope she's able to sub again soon. I was told I was the first to recognize her in public.

In the concert hall, Leonard Slatkin enters, bows, and immediately begins the Haydn Symphony 67. Haydn's music is joyful, playful, tuneful, creative, dramatic, melodic, subtle and forceful without overpowering. In the first movement the double bass adds harmony. The second movement pushes deep timbers with the strings, and then we're treated to a two part counterpoint with the strings, left and right, then backdrop with the woodwinds. The bass and cello join in to complement a phrase. A slow ending exhibits a bit of murmur and mirth -- the entire string section is directed to play col legno dell'arco (tapping the strings with the back of the bow). The effect is quite creative - I enjoyed the sound it produced.

The 3rd movement embeds a zingy interlude where the principle string player left and right of the conductor play enchanting melody back and forth and together. Conductor Slatkin, in a move hardly seen in a classical concert, exits the podium, turns, and tips both violin soloists with a bill while they are playing, to great laughter and applause from the audience. The final movement again has the 1st violin solo and the 2nd violin accompany, but it's a trio, the 1st cello joins in.

The next selection by American composer Alan Hovhaness, his Symphony No. 2, "Mysterious Mountain," was the new piece for me this evening. Having never heard this before, I came with great anticipation and an open mind. Leonard Slatkin, who often conducts American music, introduced the music by indicating some of the elements, including a form of dissonance not usual for the harp, double bass and celesta (The sound of the celesta is similar to that of the glockenspiel, but with a much softer and more subtle timbre). From the start this music did not disappoint. It began with a gentle yet profound kind of resonance, probably due to the celesta, with bass playing pizzicati. From there the movement developed into a grand uplifting experience with surreal sounds seemingly always rising. The harmonies would buoyantly build a line, and just before that line would let up, the dissonant sounds we were told to listen for would chime in, adding the kind of rhythmic effect we might encounter in any walk with nature. The second movement began with a faster flowing pace. Soon it was rapid, racing with various sections, as if a multitude of leaves had just fallen from a tree, and were curried by the wind, then abating, curling with repetitions to and fro. The gale intensifies with the horns enraging and then the movement comes to an abrupt halt. The 3rd brought a slow struggle, much more dramatic with tension building. A final adagio could represent the final ascent to the top of the mysterious mountain - somewhat reminiscent of the 1st with the strings then woodwinds following with voices recanting the vivid view along the way, looking out and ever upwards, and now as we ascend the entire orchestra joins to embellish a grand finale as we have arrived at the peak - "the meeting place between the mundane and the spiritual worlds."

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All week I've been looking forward to listen to James Galway play Mozart's Flute Concerto No. 2 this weekend at Heinz Hall. But what was a surprise to me was that he also performs with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in Bizet's Carmen Fantasy.

After intermission Sir James Galway enters the stage, bows humbly, and with the direction of Leonard Slatkin, conductor, begins. He's wearing a marvelous jacket of gold and black with red handkerchief and tie with a beige vest - he looks great. How can I adequately describe his playing? What I especially like is the trilling/lilting quality of the tones from his flute especially with the low notes, when held for a time. It's entertaining to watch him with finger movements darting up and down the scale with racing notes, then back to the sublime low frequencies as the orchestra accents. I've heard this concerto by Mozart many times, but here live with solos by Galway, it's like never before. Tte slow movement now absorbs special ebullient quality like I've never realized before. The 3rd is instantly recognizable - a spirited and sprightly razzle dazzle to conclude.

Next up: Bizet Carmen Fantasy with solo flute. Now this is the Pièce de résistance. What an interesting beginning - and on this journey we've probably encountered before, we hear a beautiful rendition with James Galway and the PSO.

Finally we are treated to three encore pieces which might be expected, and Galway calls them 3 Lollipops (after Thomas_Beecham).

• Brian Boru's March - a beautiful tune!
• Danny Boy
• Badinerie by Johann Sebastian Bach (Galway said "Johann Sebastian..." and the audience answered "Bach", then he said "Who?", again "Bach", then he said "You're definitely not at a football match" meaning the audience wasn't loud or enthusiastic enough)

Then we were treated to one more encore - the Bach Badinerie one more time, only really fast - in fact, Slatkin exclaimed "See who can play this Bach piece faster!" - applause!

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Flute Academy Flute Chorus - pre-concert music in the lobby.

From the depths of deeply vibrant strings to an arduously congruous ascent toward the light

From the depths of deeply vibrant strings to an arduously congruous ascent toward the light, the three pieces of music presented by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra with Conductor Xian Zhang and solo violinist Xiang Yu were a surprising and breathtaking journey to say the least.

The PSO program began Friday evening with Steven Stucky, entering stage right, to discuss 'Radical Light' a 17 minute composition. In his words (paraphrasing): "I'm responsible for what's about to happen to you. The genre of this composition would be called a tone poem - it sounds hopelessly old fashioned, but that's the best way to describe it. It's a journey, not a symphony or something else, it has a kind of emotional journey, climax or feeling of rise and fall, not technical, theoretical or about skill, but the feelings - the string sound, a sparkly sphere, a marvelous slow movement, and finally reaching for the light. By the time we get to the end of the journey we will have reached as far as we can for the light."

The journey begin with the strings, in a high pitched form of dissonance that seemed harsh or discordant, and I couldn't discern the form of harmony. The sound was incomplete until the woodwinds joined to try to resolve the situation. I heard horns, then succeeding woodwinds juxtaposed in somewhat improper chord progression, one following another so that, each voice in turn sounded right, but their progressions seemed incongruous. Even so, the whole of the orchestration of these elements developed in an interesting, yet deceptive cadence. I also observed the xylophone and horns, and at one point a bell rang, then again the strings and next the orchestra making a sound as if an alien spacecraft were darting back and forth across the atmosphere. Then slow deep strings followed again by the high discordant strings, as if to drown out an increasing melodic tune like a marvel - it was a melodic ascension of 4 notes, then 5, reaching for the ultimate height.

Next we were treated to a marvelous performance of Prokofiev's violin concerto with soloist Xiang Yu. The timber of Mr Yu's violin was amazing - this I could hear from the outset, in fact, throughout the first movement I was struck by the use of the two lower strings of the violin in this concerto. Many concertos by other famous composers seem to stick to the higher frequencies of the upper two strings, but Prokofiev surprised me with his use of the deeper and richer notes that I often long for. I also observed some interesting changes in tempo and accented rhythm throughout. The slow movement was my favorite, seemingly in 3/4 time with flutes pushing a melody as the violin builds. At one point I couldn't help but envision a death-star intruding on a butterfly. The final movement was a bouncing scraping fast metronome, with flourishes and flair, like a syncopated rain dance.

The encore was the best part of all coming from Mr. Yu, I believe it was Bach or based on a theme by Bach, but it was exquisite! Here we heard the lush deep tones of this marvelous violin, with amazing ability on display in a simple yet elegant solo.

After intermission came the truly magnificent Symphony No. 4 by Schumann with an orchestration by Mahler. Here the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra truly shines. Conductor Zhang was really good with this composition, she had no score before her, but knew every cadence, every part, every placement of accent and highlight, and she adroitly directed the orchestra with succinct movements of hands, showing clarity to the sections or individual voices. The third movement was loud and vivacious, melodic with plenty of orchestration. Three pounding notes interspersed by a softer intermezzo, with contrast between the two like the difference between a brusque baritone and a sweet soprano singing operatic counterpoint. The final movement brought a fitting conclusion to this wonderful symphony.

A singularity of brilliance!

Unconventional in his brilliance - shining like a singularity - an individual prone to capriciousness - developing outstanding works of classical music - unorthodox in his quest for the perfect composition - the exact sequence and progression of notes - this would be Beethoven. In any other person his nonconformity might seem eccentric, but in Beethoven the method of development, his chosen seclusion when writing, his individuality, produced more masterpieces then any other. The human spirit,
free from foible, is expressed in classical music better through Beethoven's compositions than in any other.
The culmination of this singularity, the exact pinpoint in time which marks the one composition that shines the brightest - that in my opinion is Beethoven's third symphony - called Sinfonia eroica [Heroic Symphony] (from Italian).

This link contains the Classical Notes description of the Eroica, a wealth of information, containing even a list of the best performances.

What about this evening's performance with Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra? Well let's just reiterate the slogan they've adopted - Hear why the world cheers - it is because they continually produce the best performances of the greatest compositions. Tonight was a tour de force, one exceptional achievement by the orchestra and conductor Manfred Honeck, seemingly unequaled by any before or unlikely to be equaled again - a singularity of brilliance.

Before the Eroica we were treated to two other composition by Beethoven before intermission. First was the Consecration of the House overture. Interestingly, in the lobby was a TV monitor playing a film from 1971 of William Steinberg rehearsing with the PSO for the opening of Heinz Hall, and they were playing the same overture. So I had an opportunity to listen to that version, then minutes later to the 2011 PSO play it again. My thoughts were that they had similarities and differences. The Steinberg version seemed more striking on each note, as if to accentuate more heavily. the Honeck version seemed to flow more naturally without the accentuation. Now which is better, well that's hard to say, but this simple comparison was a great exercise, but not exactly scientific.

Next we were treated to the Beethoven Triple Concerto, performed by the PSO and the "Eroica Trio" with Erika Nickrenz - piano, Susie Park - violin and Sara Sant'Ambrogio - Cello. Having heard this fantastic composition for the first time tonight, I have to say I've been missing a gem that I'd really like to hear again. The balance between the trio and the orchestra was just right and the exquisite sounds by these three soloists was a unique experience. Each player had such a delicate touch, with pleasing sounds that interplay with excellent combination

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After intermission came the Eroica. The Human Spirit was smiling - first 3 then 5 notes and I had goosebumps that continued throughout the first movement. The Kettledrum brought 4 beats that continued to reverberate through my soul. Pounding then flowing, soft then loud, fast then slow, alternating then simultaneous, surreal then palpable, building then descending, accenting then natural, and often coming to an eventual crescendo without actually ending, the first movement was presented as an inconceivable exercise in classical development with jaw dropping effect.

The second movement starts in the depths of melancholy, accented by an oboe, and carries forward with full strings. The drum beats a soft foreboding metronome, as cellos segway to the strings. Then a shuffle of the rhythm - a new aspect soon appears, as if an apparition sent to dispel the trance of the sad tenor. With the woodwinds comes a masterful mix-up, eventually sidling into another countenance by the bass. The drums beat more loudly - suddenly the melody becomes supplanted by a surprisingly optimistic demeanor flexing its new found vigor, with bold brass and drums. But are we done with the ancient lament - not yet - its back and soft - holding then transitioning into a march. But the tempo is uplifting and with feld drum beats the optimism is back. The whole world of concentration is focused on a distant light coming nearer, and at the same time melancholy returns, but it is broken. Bass and Brass sustain the new temperament. Now co-joined, the old and new tones mix to maximize the joyous developing flavor - human spirit cannot be defeated when we've got the proper outlook. The music pauses, takes a breath, regroups, plans, makes ready and ambles into the next movement with a charge.

The third movement seems like a musical joke, but after a bit it becomes more triumphant than anything else. It marches right along until we get the the 4th movement. Four notes and we finally see that point of creation. God created the universe out of the 6 subatomic types of quark, and yet Beethoven created the 4th movement of his 3rd symphony out of 4 notes. Those 4 notes are the elementary constituents out of which he combined variations and themes to develop the whole movement.

Pictures at an Exhibition and Heinz Hall's 40th

This year the PSO is celebrating Heinz Hall's 40th anniversary - it was renovated in 1971. Some of the photos of the construction, the building plans and the program and tickets of the inaugural concert are on display in the lobby, along with a painting of Modest Mussorgsky, who in the year 1874 wrote 'Pictures at an Exhibition', a suite in ten movements composed for piano. However, what we hear performed by the orchestra is a beautifully orchestrated version composed by Maurice Ravel in the 1920's.

Listening to the music, I hear for the first time the sounds and music which must have been conjured in the imagination of Mussorgsky by the paintings. I had not seen the paintings until after the concert, but based on the titles of each movement, I was finally familiar with the programmatic content intended. I've heard this piece countless times without thinking about the programmatic content - and perhaps that's good because I could hear and interpret for myself what the music means to me. This evening what occurred to me is that every other movement seems to alternate between something hauntingly beautiful, as with one movement that effectively uses the Saxophone, Bassoon and Oboe to blend an eerie effect, with other rather upbeat and snappy movements like the 'Ballet of the Chicks in their Shells' and 'Baba-Yaga - The Hut on Fowl's Legs'. The conclusions came in the form of The Great Gate of Kiev, by far the longest and most impressive conglomeration of brass and bravado led by conductor Manfred Honeck and the PSO to bring the audience to an eventual standing ovation.

The surviving works by Hartmann that can be shown with any certainty to have been used by Mussorgsky in assembling his suite, along with their titles,^[2] are as follows:

No. 5 Sketch of theatre costumes for the ballet Trilby No. 6a Jew in a fur cap. Sandomierz No. 6b Sandomierz Jew

No. 8 Paris catacombs (with the figures of V. A. Hartmann, V. A. Kenel, and a guide, holding a lantern) No. 9 The hut of Baba-Yaga on hen's legs–clock in the Russian Style No. 10 Project for a city gate in Kiev–main façade